


stuck on the fast  forward, always on the rewind

by lightningstars



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, also there's mention of blood and injury but i tried not to get too graphic with it, brief mentions of aang and toph, childhood friends to distant acquaintances to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningstars/pseuds/lightningstars
Summary: Once upon a time, they were friends, until Zuko let it all burn up. Two years later they run into each other and try again.It's different. It's not unpleasant.By the end of the hour, he’s sitting at the foot of the couch, the bright sun lulling him into exhaustion. Around him there are 7 different plates of different brownie batches; Suki has fallen asleep but Sokka is staring right at him still. In the light of an awake sun against a cornflower sky, his skin looks more delicate, smoother, like a statue. Zuko is so full of longing it encompasses his being, makes him want to reach out just to make sure that he’s still real. He holds himself back.“You can sleep if you want” Sokka offers quietly before moving into a more comfortable position. It takes a few minutes before there’s a comfortable rhythm to his breathing. Zuko makes sure to drape a blanket over him before slipping out the door.He forces himself not to check if Sokka stirred awake in his absence.
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), in a platonic way tho!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Comments: 14
Kudos: 106





	stuck on the fast  forward, always on the rewind

**Author's Note:**

> created as a result of the atla-secret-santa 2020 - thank you to the mods for being so on top of everything. for tumblr user: [constallayetions](https://constallayetions.tumblr.com/). i am unbelievably sorry for posting a day late. somehow i don't think you were imagining this when you requested your prompts and honestly neither was i but i hope you enjoy regardless. happy holidays.
> 
> warning for mention of wounds & injury in section 6. i tried to be brief but please take care of yourself when reading my lovelies. title is from [marina's song: believe in love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1j3PuwCekg&ab_channel=MARINA)
> 
> i want to make it clear that the zuko/katara interactions are purely from a platonic standpoint in this fic. she is angry because her friend hurt her and forgives him as a friend. they are **friends** first and foremost. any other commentary i have on the fic are at the end.
> 
> my tumblr is found [here](https://megantheeface.tumblr.com/). please come talk to me to say hi or tell me about a grammar mistake etc..

i. _i will mourn as long as i breathe_

He spends an embarrassing amount of time wondering what he’d do if he ran into Sokka again. 

In his head, he pictures himself infinitely smoother. Easily tells him how much he likes his new hair, laughs at all the right times, makes pleasant small talk, and ends the interaction feeling pleasantly pleased. Other times he fights with him and listens to Sokka spite him, ruin him thoroughly while he brings up secret after secret, weaponizes Sokka’s trust against him. He thinks about ignoring him if they ever run into each other, at an event slowly walking closer and closer from opposites sides of the room. In his head he imagines Sokka with longer hair, with a bowl cut, wearing a tie, in mismatched shoes. In his head he pictures him ignoring Zuko, hugging him tight enough that Zuko can feel his ribs pushing upward and out of his mouth. In his head he pictures Sokka with a new scar on his knee, with freckles or a dimple, laughing, crying, yelling, staring, waving, sweating, swearing, hunched over a table still working, cooking, sleeping, running. 

In his head, he imagines going to the places he knows Sokka goes to. Thinks about stalking the thrift store Katara drags him to, thinks about going to the only park with a swing where he balances himself upside down on the monkey bars. In his head he pictures himself being brave enough to go to his home, knock on the door and count the seconds between running down the stairs and the door opening. He imagines himself going to the cafe Sokka likes, the one next to the shelter. They could graze each other’s fingers as they reach for the same cup, they could stand next to each other and he could pay for Sokka’s drink in apology; he could bump Zuko’s shoulders in acceptance, it could all be okay. 

Zuko spends half his days in his head, writing about any situation. He spends his evenings’ editing, goes to sleep picturing what Sokka would look like now, and wakes up to do it again. 

\-- 

ii. _i used to say i’d know you anywhere but it’s getting harder_

They run into each other at the corner store. It’s a testament to how horrible of a writer Zuko is, that he a.) never once imagined this scenario and b.) forgot every rehearsed line he’d ever created. 

“Zuko” Sokka calls out, surprise overwhelming every syllable. He’s far away from the person Zuko last knew, 16, short-haired, fresh off of the braces. He’s standing in the middle of the aisle, in between the soda and the chips, holding three boxes of brownie mix. He’s still staring at Zuko looking more confused than angry - a change from Zuko’s initial ideas. 

“Sokka” he stares at him longer. In his head, he’d always thought the ground would shake a bit underneath him, or he’d get dizzy with excitement. In reality, there is barely a foot of a distance between them and the tile floors are startlingly reflective. From the corner of his eye, he can see the bottom of Sokka’s chin reflecting back at him like a circus mirror, a cheap distorted image of the real thing in front of him. 

“Why - wh.” he pauses, scanning Zuko again. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Dinner” internally he wonders if he’s capable of speaking in more than just one-worded answers. 

Sokka narrows his eyes in a way that reminds Zuko of Katara. He wonders if she’s the one that taught him how to do that. 

“It’s 5 in the morning Zuko. You’re eating dinner at 5 am?” 

“Night owl” he weakly replies, half wincing over his own words. “What’re you doing here?” 

He raises his hands up as a means of explanation. “Suki and I are baking. Midnight raid” 

“5 am” he corrects instinctively echoing Sokka’s words back. 

It’s like a crack in the ice the way Sokka grins easily and Zuko feels the tension disappear from his left knuckles. He steps back to take him in properly now; he’s filling out the blue sweatshirt that has paint stains smudged on it and wearing scuffed boots. His hair is longer now, tied up high with the sides shaved off; there’s a smudge of chocolate on the upper right corner of his lip, and part of the area is just slightly matted down. 

It hits him what Sokka just said - baking brownies with Suki. Meaning he and Suki are up at 5 am baking brownies. Meaning he and Suki are up at 5 am living together, laughing, baking brownies, licking the extra batter together. Instinctively he feels himself blanch then instantly tries to quell down the roaring beast of jealousy scratching up his throat raw because it’s been 2 years and he does not have the right to be upset that Sokka is living his life. 

“Right” Zuko starts taking another step back. “Right so-” 

“You want to come over and help us bake? We need another taster. And aluminum foil” Sokka talks over him, eyebrows raised. It takes Zuko a second to hear what he’s said, another second to answer yes. “Great” Sokka grins at him again, the corners of his mouth lifting unevenly but still genuine, still a hint of boyishness he hasn’t outgrown yet. 

They leave the shop silently and in the back of his mind, Zuko wonders if he’s supposed to make conversation. But Sokka isn’t saying a word - a large enough change from who Zuko used to know that he wonders what else has changed in the last 2 years. Wonders if he still fits into the person Sokka’s become now. 

In front of them, the sky is starting to wake up lazily, inky blue turning into hazes of yellows and beiges. The sun breaks through the barricade of heavy clouds, coming up like an emperor to its throne. Zuko risks glancing at Sokka; in the starting light, his arm hair looks closer to crystals, rising slightly against the cool air. He can see the small puffs of air Sokka lets out, can see his chest rise and fall. Against the dusty sky, he can make out the curve of his jaw better, see his tongue in between the rows of teeth and it strikes Zuko how little he has changed. Sokka may be different, but Zuko is still 16 and wanting. He is still a little boy grasping, getting on his toes and stretching, pushing and wriggling his slender fingers, the skin on his knuckles turning red from straining, callouses on his palm from reaching, wanting, wanting, oh so desperately wanting. 

“What?” Sokka asks making eye contact from the side of his eye. 

“Oh, I. Nothing. You look nice” Zuko scrambles for an answer. He goes back to looking straight ahead. “Your hair looks nice now” he tries again, biting his lip from wincing. 

“Oh, now it looks nice? Woowww. Somewhere 12 year old me is hurting” 

“Somewhere 12-year-old Zuko is hurting more from having to pretend your hair was any good” he replies easily and smiles when he notices Sokka gaping at him in mock hurt. 

“What? I - wow. Wooooooowwwwwww” he draws out the word longer than last time. “Because your hair was amazing back in the day” 

“Hey don’t knock the ponytail. I mean you’re the one copying it now” 

“Hey now this is a manly wolf tail that represents honor and respect and manhood” 

“Oh yeah. I’m feeling super respectful in your presence. Thank you O Sir Sokka for reminding me of my dignity as I hold aluminum foil, plastic forks, fake spiders, and a cheap imitation of a Party City wig. Which - by the way - why am I holding fake spiders and a wig?” 

“Because taking care of real spiders for Halloween is a lot of maintenance and Party City wigs are expensive” Sokka replies easily 

“They’re $20” 

“Alright rich boy” Sokka rolls his eyes at him “Next time you pay for the wigs then” 

Zuko lets out a half-laugh, as they climb up the stairs. He feels drunk, delirious on falling into a routine with Sokka, warm at the prospect of next time. He mentally excuses the blush crawling up his skin to the exercise, pretending like his heart isn’t beating triumphantly as if to shout I win! I win! 

“Hey Sukiii” he sings the last syllable of her name in a way reminiscent of ‘hey honey, I’m home!’ Zuko focuses on quelling the roaring beast in his throat again and takes off his shoes. Suki appears by the door to take their load and if she’s surprised to see him she doesn’t show it. 

The hour goes by like a hazy dream, Suki sits in the rocking chair and directs them in the kitchen. They’re measuring oil and water, spooning out extract, and spraying the pan. Sokka is so unbelievably present next to him, elbows still pointing out when they bump into each other in the small space. Zuko tries so hard to memorize the space he’s in, taking note of the different plants on the window so he can look them up later, glancing at the envelopes piling at the door, random bills found throughout. He wants to live in the moment forever, remember every detail so he can look up more information later, and still ride the high of having seen Sokka, having been around Sokka for a bit longer. 

By the end of the hour, he’s sitting at the foot of the couch, the bright sun lulling him into exhaustion. Around him there are 7 different plates of different brownie batches; Suki has fallen asleep but Sokka is staring right at him still. In the light of an awake sun against a cornflower sky, his skin looks more delicate, smoother, like a statue. Zuko is so full of longing it encompasses his being, makes him want to reach out just to make sure that he’s still real. He holds himself back. 

“You can sleep if you want” Sokka offers quietly before moving into a more comfortable position. It takes a few minutes before there’s a comfortable rhythm to his breathing. Zuko makes sure to drape a blanket over him before slipping out the door. 

He forces himself not to check if Sokka stirred awake in his absence. 

iii. _please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving_

When they run into each other again it’s on purpose. Zuko spent a week agonizing over himself, running through every micromovement he could remember. In the end, he found himself lying in bed missing Sokka more than he had before, feeling his presence like a phantom limb or a missing tooth. 

He takes a shot that Sokka still has the same number from 2 years ago and dials the number. Briefly, he wonders if he should’ve texted instead - there’s a chance it isn’t even Sokka’s number. No one calls in the era of smartphones, texting is infinitely easier. He told Sokka once that he preferred calling over texting and remembers how Sokka looked back at him with confusion. 

_“Why?”_

“Because. People can get confused over tone and what you really mean but when you call it’s like easier to make them understand what you’re saying. And you can talk to them in real-time” he’d said and Sokka just shook his head before throwing an apple seed at him. He smiles at the memory, at how long ago it was. 

“Hello?” Sokka’s voice cuts through and nearly startles Zuko. 

“Hey! Hi, hey. Hello,” Zuko rushes “hey. I just. I wanted to see if this was still your number” 

A beat of silence and then, “yeah it is. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah” it occurs to him that maybe he should’ve made a plan before calling. “I just wanted to see if you maybe wanted to hang out or something” _I missed you_ he’s trying to say _I missed you and I don’t know how to make it right and I’m sorry._

“Yeah alright. What do you want to do?” 

“Whatever you’re thinking of suggesting” 

“Wow. That was unbelievably lame of you” Sokka half laughs and Zuko can picture the pull of his cheeks upward, his nose wrinkling. 

“Just being honest here” Zuko admits. He can hear Sokka humming in the background as he thinks, wonders if Sokka still chews on his inner lip. 

“How about we go to the park? You know the one with the swing by the laundromat?” 

“Yeah, I remember, sure. I’ll meet you there in twenty?” Zuko agrees, getting his shoes. _He still goes to the park_ Zuko thinks to himself, all too pleased _still remember that._

iv. _with so much to look forward to, he looked back_

When they were kids they used to spend an incessant amount of time on the fire escape outside of Hakoda’s workplace. Zuko remembers the first time he climbed up and felt dizzy by the sight. 

He gazed at the horizon looking out to see the endless city, rows upon rows of buildings all lined up neatly in columns. He could pretend that at the edge of the city there was an endless field waiting, sharp trees covering hills that stood against straggling clouds, lazily touring the world with not one care. He could pretend that somewhere the world did look like a painting, a space of near purity under the sunshine rather than just shedding light onto the gutters of the city. 

When they first started hanging out up the escape, they built Legos. Zuko was insistent on trying to figure it out without looking at the instructions, miles away from his father and still trying to prove something to him. Sokka always indulged him for the first half-hour before Zuko got too frustrated and threw it away from him, angry. 

“Zuko hold on let’s try this” Sokka suggested, 8 years old and still patient enough to not give up. 

Zuko had huffed out in annoyance but sat back down cross-legged and let Sokka take over. Together Zuko found the pieces needed and Sokka figured out how to put them together. Eventually, Zuko started developing an organizational system, partly out of boredom, partly to prove that his mind had use too. 

They’d build and rebuild and later Katara would sometimes come up and paint the Lego pieces till the sun went down and they were left under an iron-colored sky, barely able to make out the stars through the city smoke. 

The two - three of them sometimes - would clamber down the rickety stairs until Hakoda opened the window for them to tumble through, breathless with anticipation and exhaustion. 

“Daddaddaddad look what Zuko and I made!” Sokka jumped shoving his way to the front. 

Hakoda kneeling down, inspecting it carefully always broke out into a huge easy grin, “this looks incredible Sokka” he said “I think you did a great job” this time directed at Zuko. 

As they got older they started bringing different things up to the rooftop. He remembers making volcanos and tsunamis - projects Katara pushed them to so she could bring awareness to whatever ecological disaster was at the forefront of importance. They made cheap imitations of planes and gliders, of tv and shoddy radios, a horrible new language, and makeshift candles that smelled worse than the dumpster out back. He remembers eating stale fruit snacks and animal crackers, he remembers biting into red apples and feeling the stickiness of the juice dribble down on his chin and spitting the seeds down below to see who could get it the furthest. He remembers when Katara brought a picnic blanket up once and they laid down, cloud watching; he remembers Hakoda driving him back home, always letting him play his music tapping along to the beat. He remembers the feeling of comfort, how tangible it was in that family’s presence, how he wanted to live in it forever. Zuko was never good with his own emotions, didn’t understand them, and spent years living invisibly. 

Sometimes invisibility suited him. Other times it made him want to tear his skin out piece by piece and force-feed it to his father: _notice me!_ he wanted to say _notice what you’re making me do, you’re killing me! do you even care that I’m dying in front of you?_ he wanted to beg 

But with Sokka’s family, feelings leaked out of them like water in cupped fingers. Every thought, every emotion was left on the surface. They were a family that willingly let their heart bleed out on their sleeve. 

He wanted to hate them, at least a little, for having the luxury of honesty and openness. 

Instead, he found himself going back to them, chasing that broad, young feeling that started in his chest and expanded throughout his body until it fell out of him in quips and giggles. 

v. _i have been missing your voice like bleached bones dream of fish_

They take turns reaching out to each other. 

Sokka once told Zuko that he learned from his mom - or was it Katara - to never be in a one-sided relationship. 

“The energy,” he said in between bites of chicken nuggets, “it’s gotta match. Like both people have to be putting in the same amount of effort or else one person gets drained and dies. Or the relationship dies and everyone is just miserable” 

Zuko thinks he’s applying the same concept. He wants to make sure Zuko is in this actually and isn’t going to just disappear like he did 2 years ago, he wants Zuko to work for it a bit. 

They keep ending up at the park. Briefly, Zuko wonders if he should ask to go back up the fire escape, rewind back to their childhood but anytime he thinks of suggesting it his throat swells up closed. 

So they go to the cafe, walk down winding streets and sit in the park. 

“What if,” Zuko starts one day fixating at a bush far away from them “we lived on the moon” 

“You’d be bored” Sokka replies pulling up a piece of grass. Zuko almost wants to tell him to stop - if Katara was here she’d be pissed but he stops himself. Isn’t sure if that’s his place anymore. Isn’t sure if she’s even still like that anymore. 

“No I wouldn’t” he protests instead “I would collect moon rocks and like. Jump around because of the low atmosphere” 

“Low gravity” Sokka corrects and then raises an eyebrow at him “what’re you going to do with the rocks?” 

“ID them. Classify them and stuff” he counters back 

Sokka thinks about it for a minute before nodding in agreement, forehead smoothing over. “Fair enough, you were always good about that sort of thing” he concedes 

Zuko bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning too widely. 

\- 

“You should come to game night” Sokka invites him over the phone. Zuko’s in his own dingy apartment, doing laundry for once, feeling ridiculously pleased that he remembered to buy detergent. 

“What time?” 

“Sevenish” 

“Ish?” 

“As in it’s supposed to start at seven but there’s a million of us and so it winds up starting later because no one is ever calm enough to start at seven” 

“Ah. Got it. See you at nine then” 

He spends the next hour looking over his clothes even though they are, admittedly the same. Once upon a time, he used to have clothes that fit him just right, tailored to his exact measurements. Now all his clothes are too big on him, hanging off lazily like cheap drapes. 

When he walks into Sokka’s apartment he can distinctly hear Aang laughing and Toph shouting. He freezes for a second, his whole body turning ice-cold despite him always running warm, and can feel his arm hair tense up as if they’re on the attack. 

“Zuko!” Suki calls out, calm as ever, reaching out to him pleasantly. “Hey, guys look who showed up!” If she notices his stiff movement she doesn’t comment and it hits him all at once how _good_ Suki is, never once intruding, maintaining her own space but still inviting. 

“Zuko?” as he walks deeper into the apartment he sees Toph sitting on the counter holding Aang down as the boy drinks apple juice out of a straw. “Hey man! What’s up?” 

“Sokka” he gestures loosely even though she cannot see and he doesn’t even know where Sokka is. She seems to accept it as an answer well enough and Aang gives an enthusiastic wave from his position. 

“So” Suki starts “everyone’s here except for-” she cuts off as the door opens again and a hooded figure walks in “oh! Katara’s here! Okay _now_ everyone is here, we can start” she moves off into the living room as Zuko turns around to greet Katara. He thinks it’s only appropriate to say hey first rather than catching her off guard. 

“Zuko,” she says finally looking up. When Sokka had first said his name he sounded surprised. When Katara first says his name she sounds guarded. “What’re you doing here?” eyes narrowed, immediately scanning him over. 

“I uh. Got invited. By your brother” 

A beat of silence passes as she appraises him - _like brother like sister_ he thinks. With Sokka though, he felt like a child again, 8 years old flailing around with too many limbs and missing teeth. With her he feels himself straighten as beads of sweat trickle down, he feels more like a student giving a presentation. 

“Okay,” she answers coldly “better be good” _I don’t like you anymore_ she’s saying, and it surprises him how much the whip of her words stings _I’m going to beat you tonight after everything._

He still takes this as a better sign than how it could’ve gone. 

\- 

“A nine Zuko? Really?” Sokka calls out from across the table. He’s leaning back, loosely smiling holding his cards with both hands. 

Zuko looks back at him dead-eyed, willing himself to not give the game away. “What I said right?” 

“Yeah but see it’s just the chances for that are low considering I’ve got two nines and I know Katara has at least one” Sokka’s mouth quirks further up, eyes crinkling. He can see Katara huffing in annoyance at being found. 

“You’re cheating” he replies disapprovingly 

“Am not” 

“You’re table talking! That’s cheating!” he protests, smiling despite himself. Sokka, laughing openly now, reaches up to let his hair loose. 

“Sokka either call him out or put down a card” Katara calls out, tapping her own cards against the table, a welcome distraction. Zuko focuses on that, the faulty rhythm of her tapping instead of the way Sokka looks with his hair down. It’s unfair he looks this nice under cheap fluorescent lighting. 

“Alright, I mean I’m just saying. You’d have to be incredibly lucky” Sokka says pulling Zuko’s attention back to him. Next to him, he can hear Aang whispering the cards to Toph, and can feel Katara’s steady gaze still on him, unmoving the entire night. 

“I’m a very lucky person” he sardonically bites out, trying not to be too pleased when Sokka lets out another breathy laugh. Zuko’s struck again with a wave of wanting, _please_ he thinks _how nice it would be_

“Okay this is taking too long” Toph calls from her side “we call BS” 

Zuko groans as he takes the pile of cards back for himself as the table teases him gleefully. 

“So I _am_ right” Sokka crows doing a little shimmy with his shoulders, unnervingly casual. Zuko tries not to watch too carefully as he rolls his eyes. 

“ _Toph_ was right” 

“But I stalled long enough so this was a team effort sooo _I_ was right” Sokka claims in a sing-song voice, satisfyingly running over his teeth as if that didn’t turn Zuko’s veins inside out. “Not my fault I’m smarter than you” 

“Literally everyone is smarter than me, it’s not really a brag” he points out focusing on fixing the order of his cards 

“Well we’ve gotta have something on you since you’re here, like this” 

“Like what? A mess?” he rolls his eyes again, letting out a sarcastic huff. He’s trying to not focus too deeply on how familiar this moment feels, how reminiscent it is of who they were, and instead, just enjoy the moment. 

“Not really” Sokka replies looking right at him. Katara finally tears her stare away from Zuko to look back at Sokka, then back at Zuko. He can feel a stinging blush creeping up his neck and down his arms, a thumping heartbeat he’s sure everyone can identify as his own. His body has always been the biggest traitor, the most unloyal of beings. Zuko looks down at his cards to hide the childish embarrassment rolling off him in waves, palpable in every sense. 

“Oh Spirits, Suki” Katara interrupts “just go. Your turn” her annoyance a welcome interruption. Zuko looks up to see Sokka still staring right at him. 

\- 

Their interactions become less scripted, less planned. Without asking Zuko starts showing up at Sokka’s apartment, Suki letting him in every time, always unsurprised. Privately he thinks back to a few months ago when he felt threatened by her and feels shame prickling down his spine at the thought. 

If she knows this, she still never lets on. 

He’s eternally grateful. 

“Zuko, c’mere. Help me study” Sokka calls out from the couch. He’s lying sideways with the book covering his feet as a makeshift blanket. 

“You’re not even holding the book” Zuko comments, picking it up from his place. 

“Exactly why I need your help studying” Sokka quips and Zuko feels his pulse jump in his direction. He thinks back to when he said he’d live on the moon and it occurs to him that _he_ is the moon, stuck orbiting around Sokka, enthralled by the being he is. _How did I stay away from you_ he wonders, _how did I not collapse_? 

\- 

He starts dreaming about him, which, all things considered, is surprising it only starts now. 

They’re older in the dream he thinks, and Sokka’s eating a popsicle. They’re wandering down the street in flip flops as the sun beat down on them. The intensity of the heat hits them in waves, curls underneath Zuko's clothes, and weighs down like an anchor on his wreck of skin. 

“We should make a portable A.C” Sokka’s saying, half shouting over the noise on the street. His shoes are getting too small for him and desperately Zuko thinks of switching them out with his own. He doesn’t mind the edge of his feet hanging off against the pavement, he’s learned to like the scratching material against his skin. 

Sokka keeps talking when suddenly they’re in a plane and Zuko’s piloting. Unperturbed, all dream Sokka does is put his feet up on the dashboard when suddenly the plane starts going down. Zuko, desperate, hits all the buttons he can see and tries steering the plane up as the air hits him harder in the face and the ground becomes closer. From the corner of his eye, he can see Sokka hit his head against the window, glass cutting through the skull. 

Zuko wakes up in a blind panic, bile heavy in his throat when he sees the blood. 

\- 

Sokka barrels into his apartment one day because it was raining and like a cat, Zuko rarely strayed out in the rain. 

“Not a good day” Sokka announces as Zuko detangles himself from his place in the blanket. “I messed up a presentation and we’re out of butter but the store doesn’t have any and Suki’s with her parents so I don’t really feel like being alone even though I _am_ and I think Toph hid my remote,” he says bitterly in one go before downing an entire bottle of expired juice. 

“Okay,” Zuko starts getting out ginger for him as a palette cleanser when Sokka inevitably gaged on the taste. 

“Tell me something nice or I’ll lay in your tub for the rest of the night” he threatens as if Zuko would hate that. 

“Today I swept the entire apartment. At work, someone tried to climb over the bar and break a bottle of alcohol so they could get it for free so I had to drag them outside” he smiles, lazy and taking out a cutting board to chop onions and tomatoes. 

“I’m sorry but how does that second thing count as a nice thing?” Sokka asks laying against the wood floor. 

“Because dragging him out was basically a workout so now I don’t have to do it tonight” he explains. Absentmindedly his shirt rides up as he works and he catches Sokka eyeing the sliver of skin showing. 

“Wow, look at you,” Sokka says, his voice catching. “Skipping a day of workout huh. Gona collapse right in front of me” 

Zuko grins again, his smiles coming easier than they used to. “Damn, you know what? I think it’s hitting already” he wobbles dramatically “ohhh I’m feeling. So woozy. Think I’m. Wooahhh-” he stumbles dramatically, intending to hit the floor when Sokka catches him. 

“I got you,” he says, voice low. 

Zuko can’t breathe, feels his throat constricting. “Do you?” 

Sokka looks back at him, a timeless minute, marked only by Zuko’s thundering heart beating fiercely enough Zuko is sure it’s leaving a bruise against his ribs. 

“Yeah” he admits “I always got you” 

\- 

_Zuko to Sokka_ : you up? 

_Sokka to Zuko_ : yeah ofc 

_Sokka to Zuko_ : it’s only like. 2:30 

_Zuko to Sokka_ : i’m hungry 

_Sokka to Zuko_ : hm. try eating. 

_Zuko to Sokka_ : you’re brilliant, thanks so much 

_Sokka to Zuko_ : thank u, it comes effortlessly. what’re you going for? 

_Zuko to Sokka_ : waffles 

_Zuko to Sokka_ : and ice cream. moose tracks. 

_Sokka to Zuko_ : you’re gonna get sick you know 

_Sokka to Zuko_ : i want in 

_Zuko to Sokka_ : come over then. 

_Sokka to Zuko_ : omw now 

\- 

They end up eating the waffles and ice cream on the sidewalk because as it turns out, Zuko does not have ice cream in his home. Nor does he have waffles. 

So they run to the corner store to get both things but Zuko is too lazy to walk back to his apartment just to eat dinner so he brought a spoon tucked neatly into the inner pocket of his jacket to save him some time. 

“I think” Sokka announces from in between spoonfuls of ice cream. “I want to get a cat. But I don’t think my landlord lets pets because she’s allergic or her kid is allergic or some stupid thing like that so what I was thinkin-” 

“I’m not taking care of a cat for you” Zuko interrupts, incredibly worried about what direction he was taking this conversation in. 

Sokka blinks for a second, “I was going to suggest jacking a car and then having the cat live out from there” he admits, “your idea sounds better though” 

Zuko looks up at him through the mop of hair on his forehead, half-gaping. Sokka lowers his spoon after making it clean, absentmindedly licking his lips as he glances around the fairly quiet street before meeting Zuko’s eyes. With his head slightly tilted, hair tied up with a few loose strands he looks unbelievably young again. 15 and whispering silly dreams he had, looking back up at Zuko nervously as if Zuko would think his ideas were anything short of genius. 

“In my defense, that wasn’t my first idea” Sokka goes to defend himself, “it was Toph’s” 

“But you’re _going_ with it” Zuko chokes out 

“Well, there’s only so many things I can do” Sokka points out going back for another spoonful. At this point, his waffles are getting colder, forgotten in favor of the flavor and Zuko helplessly gapes back at him again. 

“I’m not going to actually” Sokka protests, fearing he was now being marked as an animal abuser. 

“Oh really? Why is that? Is it because of the literal cruelty of it or the legalness of it?” 

“I was thinking more like I don’t know how to get the smell of cat shit out of cushion but the no animal abuse thing sounds good too” 

“Oh Spirits” Zuko mutters, and then “if you really want a cat I’ll help you with it” 

Sokka beams at him, bright and so full of light it makes up for the lack of sunshine around them at the late hour. “Hah! Knew you’d come around.” 

vi. _lord i confess i want the clarity of catastrophe but not the catastrophe_

For all his life, Zuko’s run hot. 

He's always overworked himself, very rarely rewarding himself. Once upon a time, he used to sit with Azula and do foot baths and play with the ducks but that was a long time ago. That was during a time of indulgence when his mother still sang him stories good night and his face could still pass as that of a porcelain doll. 

For a very long time, Zuko has run hot. 

\- 

He’s in the middle of an afternoon nap when he gets a call. 

Blearily he reaches over to hang up until they call again and again. And then a fourth time. 

“What” he practically growls into the speaker 

“Come to the hospital” a voice replies back, skipping any sense of formalities. It takes him a second to realize it’s Suki and he sits up, blinking out the last of his sleep. 

“What?” 

“Come to the hospital. The one by that children’s school across town. Sokka’s hurt” she relays, every word calm and measured but he can hear her waver on the last syllable. 

“Are you serious?” he’s already reaching for his shoes, looking around for a shirt he can reach. 

“Yeah” 

“Okay,” takes a breath, is already opening the door “I’m going to speed,” he tells her. Logically he knows he should be careful, avoid anyone else getting hurt, and sent to the hospital. Selfishly he wants to see Sokka. 

“Good” 

When he gets there Suki’s already at the door, ready to take him. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting, imagines maybe Sokka passed out from exhaustion or a broken finger. A minor concussion even, a significantly unimportant injury. 

He tries very hard to not focus on the fact that he considers a minor concussion to be a small injury. 

Instead, he sees Sokka lying helplessly on a bed, a white sheet covering him. He looks hauntingly similar to a corpse except there's a heart rate monitor hooked up to him, the only indication he's breathing, the only proof of his being. 

His stomach hardens itself into a sheet of metal and slowly sinks, into his abdomen, into his intestine until he's washed over in cold shock. There's a gash on his head, barely covered to stop the blood from pulsating out, his leg looked as if it'd been horribly scraped off like grime in an old pot. Blood had dripped down from his head onto his ear, drying off like frosting on a cake; Zuko was struck with the memory of baking with him 8 months ago, how full of life he was then, how wrong it was to see him this still. 

He moves closer to the bed to see the dried blood underneath his nails, his eyelids, licks his teeth in the taste of stark metal. There are bruises forming on every inch of skin, the kind that throbs with movement, he remembers those awfully well. Zuko's brain feels so distantly far away, observing from miles away, in a safer place but his hands move of their own accord, gently grazing every inch they can - not quite touching but almost. Almost. 

\- 

He doesn’t wake up for weeks. Zuko comes in every day. 

So does Katara. 

At first she ignores him, her anger creating a shield of force around her. Sometimes he wonders vaguely how she grips it so tightly, holds onto it like a raft. Other times he wonders how to make amends to her. 

Katara however has always been ever-changing. He remembers when they were younger how her anger would come out in bursts of righteous indignation, how easy it was to frustrate her. In her older age, her temper is more measured and calculated. She’s learned, he notices, how to pinpoint a true spot of weakness. She’s learned to wait and listen before attacking. She’s learned to measure her anger, the intensity of it rather than releasing it all at once. 

She’s gone from being a girl of crashing waves to a woman of ice, he realizes. 

And he missed the change. 

\- 

She finally snaps at him about a month in. 

Sokka still knocked out, is often cold to the touch despite the hospital blankets. Zuko moves instinctively, rubbing Sokka’s hands for warmth, distractedly thinking about which shifts would be best to pick up. 

When she walks in with her lunch - never offers to share with him and he doesn’t ask - her expression glides from exhaustion to surprise to anger so quickly he thinks he imagined it. 

“What’re you doing?” she snaps forcing her way in between 

“Nothing! Just warming up his hands, he’s cold Katara” 

She glances back down at Sokka and softens her gaze for a second before looking back up at him furiously. “So tell a nurse! Don’t you dare touch him” 

Zuko runs his fingers through his hair desperately letting out a exhale of frustration. “How long are you going to be mad at me Katara? Everyone else came around. I didn’t even do anything-” 

“Didn’t do anything?” she whips back at him, eyes dangerously narrowed. “You _left_ Zuko! For two years, you were here and one of us and we trusted you! I trusted you! And then you just _left_ without saying a word and I was the one left to pick up the pieces! Do you have any idea what you leaving did?” she hisses her voice sharp and angled. “Do you even care? He was so upset Zuko. You were his best friend and you just fucking _left_ like it was nothing, not a word, nothing. We thought you were _dead_ Zuko. And that it was our fault somehow. And then you just show up again after two _fucking_ years as if you were in the right as if you didn’t hurt him.” she takes a measured breath and stands her full height. From the corner of his eye he can see the marks she left in her palm after digging her nails in so intensely, tangible proof of her own hurt. “Everyone else forgives you because they weren’t around for it Zuko. Not all of it. But I was. I know. And I don’t forgive you” she tells him voice low. 

He stands still in half shock for an endless minute letting her words hit him. “I’m sorry” he’s determined to keep his voice steady for her, she deserves a sincere apology. “I am. For leaving without a word. For coming back without an explanation. I’ll make it right” 

Katara stares at him intently, the same way she used to stare down Azula, with fixed intensity, eyebrows raised, mouth twitching. Azula was always good at being emotionless letting the weight of another person’s feelings lay thick between them until they broke, a smirk on her face, a glass in her hand; Katara on the other hand lets her anger simmer, lets it be known until she decided it was enough and broke the tension. 

“Why did you leave Zuko,” she asks him, her voice quieter. “You were one of us. We grew up together” 

“Because,” he starts and swallows. The tile beneath him isn’t as stable and he feels an overwhelming need to douse himself in cold water. “I - my dad found out about you guys. He threatened to hurt you” 

“Zuko” she leans back against the bedframe and looks like she wants to roll her eyes at him. “You thought the best way to help us was to run away instead of giving us a warning? Running over sticking together?” 

“I - yeah. Katara my dad has done bad things to make a point” he reminds her 

She rolls her eyes at him, letting her shoulder drop. “Zuko what could he have done to us? Actually?” 

“He could’ve attacked you!” he half shouts, “he could’ve killed you if he wanted or injured or maimed or something” 

“But Zuko that is not dependent on _you_!” she yells pushing herself off the frame. “If he wanted to hurt us he would’ve _no matter_ what you did! Everything he did was _his_ choice, not a reflection of you! You left and he still forced my dad out of a job! You staying or leaving was never a factor in his cruelty. All that happened is that he managed to drive you away from the people who loved you” 

Zuko opens his mouth to counter back, argue longer, prove that he was in the right only to find himself speechless. He feels his skin itching again, moves to scratch at his wrist uncontrollably until it’s marked raw. Tinged pink with embarrassment, tinged pink with frustration. 

“Zuko I’m not. I was never angry with you for being scared” Katara starts rubbing her eyes. Bits of her hair fall from her bun and it occurs to Zuko how _young_ she still is, a teenager playing stability. “I get that your father was not a good man, and I’m sorry. But what I’m upset about is that you _lied_ to us and hurt us before just...disappearing. What’re we supposed to think Zuko?” 

He lets the question hang in the air, unsure how to answer. Two years ago he was afraid and so he spat vitriol at them. He remembers making himself destructive, dangerous to be around, lighting everyone around until they cried in pain. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. 

“Okay,” she lets her anger go, disappears from the room like a ghost. “Just be better” _Don’t ever threaten us again_ she’s warning him, traces of her rage lingering at the edges of the room. _Let us in properly this time_ she’s asking. 

vii. _tell it anyway. little words can mean death or life sometimes_

When Sokka wakes up it’s in the evening. The sun outside is sinking into shades of purple and pinks, cooling itself off for an uneventful night. 

“Hey sleepy” Zuko croaks out, feeling his heart catch in his throat. “Finally waking?” 

Sokka blinks a few times, looks around the room before setting his sight back on Zuko. “All this fuss for me?” he tries to sound teasing but it comes out as a groan. 

“Yeah well, you are VIP” Zuko reaches over to move the pillow more comfortably. There’s a dead flake of skin peeling off Sokka’s bottom lip but the sun is still bathing him in a gentler light. “I heard the nurses say they’ve never had a better coma patient” 

“Awesome” Sokka grins before letting go into a wince. He is all skin and bone Zuko notices, a silhouette of the person he normally is “I aim to please” 

“Yeah well, you did a great job” Zuko comments, ignoring the ache in his chest to rub the sleep out of Sokka’s eyes. He can count the sun-kissed freckles on the tip of his nose, reach over and just touch them if he allows himself to. “I should get the doctor,” he says instead. 

\- 

Sokka gets better in small steps. 

It’s slower, Zuko realizes, waiting for someone else to get better rather than waiting for yourself. Time moves impossibly slow when he’s waiting, the universe ever so spiteful. The doctor says his short-term memory isn’t as strong, things just slip out of his mind like melted butter. 

“What do you remember?” Zuko asks one day, his feet up on the bed, fingers interlaced. 

“From the accident? Not much actually” Sokka admits stretching his neck out to stare at the ceiling. Zuko eyes his jawline imagines tracing his fingers down his collarbone, tapping along the pulsating beat of his heart. “I just remember a lot of white” 

“That was the color of the car,” Zuko tells him dragging his eyes down to Sokka’s fingers. The blood has been cleaned off but sometimes if he closes his eyes he can still see the garnet color mix itself into Sokka’s browned skin. Can see the edges of the wound curl up in a mock smile, egging Zuko to try and peel it off, make it disappear with a wish. “In the police report, it said it was a white 2016 Jeep that hit you” 

“You read the police report?” Sokka asks his neck snapping back. He lets out a laugh that’s a cross between half-snort and half-giggle before rolling his eyes. “Of course you read the police report. What else you find out?” 

“That the other driver has a track record of being a drunk driver. That your last name isn’t ‘Warrior’ like you tried to convince everyone when we were 12. That it happened at 10 in the morning. That _your_ car is totaled beyond repaired” he lists off, scrunching his eyes at the memory. “And for the record, Katara read the report too” he adds on ignoring the technical half-lie. She had tiredly tossed the papers over to him not even bothering to skim. Instead, he read it partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity, and relayed the important bits back to her. 

He tried very hard to ignore the part of him that found comfort in the familiarity of reading official paperwork, a reminder of childhood training. 

“Surprised she didn’t burn it up” Sokka grins up at him, bright enough to power cities. 

“Toph stole it and hung it up in your apartment. Or tried to. I heard Suki calling a carpenter?” he offers, delighted to see Sokka laugh breathlessly again. 

“Makes sense” Sokka concedes closing his eyes. He can’t stay awake for too long anymore so Zuko moves to settle in himself until they fall asleep. 

\- 

It takes another month before Sokka can officially return home. Still mainly on bed rest, doing minor exercises daily, and having a million doctor appointments lined up. 

Zuko keeps coming by every day, settles into a routine of helping around the apartment, and going to work. 

“Zuko please” Sokka calls out still stretching over to try and reach him. Zuko, to his credit, is unmoving as he keeps his gaze fixated on the screen. 

“You said it was my turn to choose the show” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were gonna do this to me Zuko. This is torture. Violates HIPPA” 

“HIPPA has to do with insurance” 

“You’re _basically_ my insurance” 

“The guy wearing week old sweats and drinking less than two bottles of water a day is your insurance? I’d look into changing that” Zuko shakes his head smiling 

“Yeah well,” Sokka’s stifling a laugh “healthcare’s gone off the rails these days. Can’t afford an upgrade” 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me then” he replies smugly, “‘till your sister burns down the whole system with Toph anyways” 

He’s grinning openly now, showing all teeth the way people do when they truly mean it and all Zuko can think again is _I want, I want, I so very much want._ He’s assaulted by the idea of spending every night like this, letting himself feel just as warm on the inside as he does on the outside. He can picture it now, nightly marathons, game nights, sinking into the oblivion of ease and comfort. 

“Y’know I’m pretty sure you’re here more than at your actual place” Sokka comments after it becomes apparent Zuko isn’t relenting. 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“No! But don’t you miss...having your own space?” Sokka’s voice carries out on an uncertain note, a distinct shift from the teasing. 

“I. I wasn’t exactly happy in those two years” he admits, voice hoarse. He twists around uncomfortably, licking his lips in nervous anticipation. He’s spent every day since his talk with Katara trying to figure out how to shift through the last few years of his life, how to explain it without overwhelming Sokka. “I’m sorry for what happened Sokka. For being awful to you in those last few weeks we talked and then for disappearing and then for just crashing back into your life and going this long without an explanation.” 

“Was it - did I do something wrong?” he swallows, quiet with a sadness so unnatural to him that Zuko blinks in sheer surprise. He thinks back to what Katara said ‘ _we thought you were dead Zuko_ ’, realizes how much guilt and responsibility Sokka’s been holding on his shoulders like weighted tons. 

“No! No, Sokka you never did anything wrong, ever” Zuko’s quick to move on his knees, holding the other boys’ hands in his. 

“I left because _I_ left. I was afraid of my father and instead of figuring out a better way to deal with it, I ran out and told myself I could handle everything on my own. When that’s dumb because no one can handle everything on their own but I was dumb. I am, so unbelievably sorry for how I left you feeling Sokka, for treating you like that, so sorry for making you think it was your fault” Zuko pulls Sokka closer to him, breathes in his scent. He’s close enough to see the scars on his chest fading, close enough to feel the stickiness of Sokka’s warm breath against the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay,” Sokka breathes out hitting his forehead against Zuko’s. “I - okay” _I accept_ he’s saying. Zuko swallows thickly, closing his eyes, the side of his face warmed by the warmth of the sunlight. 

\- 

The first time Suki leaves both of them on their own, Zuko nearly cries. 

“I don’t know how I messed it up this bad” he confesses looking down at the plates of food between them. Truly he is at a loss with himself, isn’t even sure if it’s safe to throw away. 

“How did you do this?” Sokka asks helplessly from his place. “I’ve seen you cut vegetables before. I thought you knew how to cook? What went wrong with you?” 

“Shit childhood to start with” Zuko quips, trying his best to lighten the mood. “I mean technically I thought I did. I know how to cut stuff and like to make eggs. But Uncle always did the fancier cooking” 

“Wait,” Sokka interrupts him and looks like a cross between confused and tearful “have you only been eating eggs and microwaveable meals for the last two years?” 

“Well, I mean. Sort of” Zuko admits squeezing at the cloth on his leg. He was always too tired to make anything more but he figured he had transferable skills. Apparently not. 

“Oh my...just. Wow,” Sokka’s eyes dart between Zuko and the plate of food “I can’t believe I’m into a guy who can’t cook” he mutters, then freezes. 

A beat passes between them, and then another before Zuko sucks in a lungful of air “what?” he chokes 

“I said I can’t believe you’re a guy who can’t cook” Sokka amends, clearly desperate. He looks like a child caught in a cookie jar, eyes wide open, darting around nervously. 

“No you didn’t” Zuko tilts his head down trying to get Sokka to lock eyes with him, “said you were into me” 

“What? No. Said I was into a guy” Sokka, hearing it, shuts his mouth and picks up a fork. 

“What other guy here doesn’t know how to cook?” Zuko asks slowly starting to grin 

“Me” Sokka answers quickly, then winces at himself. 

Zuko raises his eyebrows slowly, “you’re into yourself?” 

“Self-love baby. The most important thing in the world” he reinforces his claim so unbelievably untrue, he can hear Toph cackling somewhere. 

“Right” Zuko pauses, licking his upper lip. “Of course. Well, that’s a shame then” he tries, heart softening like melted ice cream inside his ribcage. 

“Why’s that a shame?” he’s stopped playing with his food, finally looking up to see Zuko smirking at him, wholly confident in himself. 

“It’s a shame then, on the principle of me liking you. A lot.” 

“Ah” Sokka manages to muster, “is a shame then” 

“Yeah” Zuko agrees casually “let me know if you ever want to do something about it” 

A beat passes between them as Sokka’s gaze falls towards Zuko’s lips, quirked upward and waiting. He blinks before decidedly reaching over to pull Zuko closer. 

They spend an embarrassing amount of time kissing. It’s infinitely better than what Zuko had imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to keep it vague what zuko did because i thought if i made it too specific it would be too decisive of if he was in the wrong or in the right. instead i kept it loose and tried to make it clear that while his reaction is understandable it wasn't acceptable. he hurt namely sokka and katara in his pain and had to make it right. personally i wish i could fix up some of the ending & his apology to sokka a bit more but I'm not sure how to do so without making it awkwardly uncomfortable. 
> 
> [come talk to me and maybe we'll figure it out](https://megantheeface.tumblr.com/ask/). i haven't read or written anything that wasn't an essay/analytical piece in years and i think it shows in this fic. i do want to get into the swing of writing again and i love a:tla so, please, feel free to drop by and send me prompts.
> 
> all the lines from the roman numerals are not mine. if you can't reverse google search them [search my words tag](https://megantheeface.tumblr.com/tagged/words%20tag), you'll find them all eventually.


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